


It's Just Another Day

by Megalohdon



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalohdon/pseuds/Megalohdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks good, tanned nicely (even if it is February), smile just as wide as it ever had been. His hair looked soft, swept rather daintily across his forehead. He had to have used gel to keep it there, but again, you saw no signs of it. He was just naturally a ruggedly good looking man. That was why you hated nature. This whole that was nature’s way of kicking you while you were down. This day, this man, his looks, your heart. This was all something that yanked you down to your knees, tugged your head back, and continuously decked you. And you took it, what else were you to do? Sit here and pour your heart out to a man who would probably laugh and punch your shoulder jokingly? Be completely honest with him and have him shoot you down? You couldn’t do that. Not today. Or ever, you like to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Just Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentines Day (; -That was when it was written and published on Tumblr anyways-

You can’t believe you are doing this. Seriously, the guy managed to get you to wear a suit and go out in public. And for what, dinner? How did he even get reservations in the first place? Eating at this kind of high end restaurant on this day? That was planned months ahead. Which, yeah, is a little weird because you wouldn’t normally do that for a bro (but he did. He was taking you out anyways, you really shouldn’t complain).

Of course he is already at the restaurant, ordered your drink and his and decided upon an appetizer, but you just shrug it off and make your way to the table. It’s what you get for deciding you had to be late for this (You’ve got to keep up your image). So of course you should rightly expect him to pick you out a coke (You’re more of a Pepsi fan) and some shitty chips and guacamole dip. Or something, you aren’t sure, you just eat it anyways. 

He’s happy though, smiling when you show up, jumping from his chair to tug you into a bear hug before allowing you to breathe and take a seat across from him. He doesn’t get to visit often, seeing as you work most of the time, and he rarely has the opportunity to leave the island anymore.

He looks good, tanned nicely (even if it is February), smile just as wide as it ever had been. His hair looked soft, swept rather daintily across his forehead. He had to have used gel to keep it there, but again, you saw no signs of it. He was just naturally a ruggedly good looking man.

That was why you hated nature. This whole that was nature’s way of kicking you while you were down. This day, this man, his looks, your heart. This was all something that yanked you down to your knees, tugged your head back, and continuously decked you. And you took it, what else were you to do? Sit here and pour your heart out to a man who would probably laugh and punch your shoulder jokingly? Be completely honest with him and have him shoot you down? You couldn’t do that. Not today. Or ever, you like to think.

“I apologize for not calling and asking for what you wanted appetizer wise, honestly I just assumed you would eat anything I picked so I went ahead with the spinach artichoke dip. Hope it’s not a bother!” You just smile, shaking your head before taking a chip and scooping some dip onto it and eating it. You don’t like to leave him hanging on thin strings with that conversation starter, you weren’t that cold.

“Nah, it’s cool. Least it wasn’t shrimp or whatever. This is fine, holds me over till I can get my grub on or something stupid like that.” He laughed, your shaded eyes watch his shoulders rose and fell in glee, stomach muscles moving until they slowed to a halt. Perhaps you were a bit too observant about his movements. But, then again, you couldn’t help yourself and you didn’t care.

“Very well then. Oh! I have your gift but you won’t be receiving it until we return to your apartment. I trust the excitement won’t eat at you through the meal.”

“Oh no, I’m not sure I can make it. Oh well, I’ll try my best, for you.” You smile, because you’re being serious. He smiles because he doesn’t get it. It hurts, but it’s been six years. Six long years, but they were worth it. You wouldn’t trade in these feelings for something more manageable. You were Dirk Strider, if you passed up a romantic challenge, then you would more than likely have to change your name. Last one at least, you were fond of your first one.

“Thank you. Oh, yes. How is the new DJ thing going? I should do better at catching up! Sorry about that Strider!”

“No it’s cool. Ah, yeah it’s going well. Not sure how I managed to get off tonight but look at me, here I am!”

“Well you did, I’d like to say you shouldn’t be working when your good pal has come down to spend a holiday with you! It would be a bit rude of them.”

“Hate to break it to you Jones, but that’s how the real world works.” He nods, you shrug. You take the plate being handed towards you and start to eat, Jake stares at his for a moment but you understand what he’s doing. Examining just how fresh his steak before he tears into it. Nothing like he shot down at home and cooked up. But he was satisfied, your eyes drifting up to watch the blood drip from the meat (God how did he stomach that?), roll over his lower lip as his tongue caught it mid drip. You wouldn’t admit that you wished he would do that again.

The two of you conversed about what you have done over the past six months, then you both complained that perhaps being best bros you two needed to make that time gap a bit smaller, then Jake went into great detail about a few of his adventures he had during his stay home. Honestly you questioned how he even survived his outings, but you didn’t question him.

Of course dinner was done quicker than you wanted it, but he nabbed his things from the front (Apparently give them a pretty penny and they’ll store anything for you) while the valet brought your car around front. You took over the driver’s seat, Jake sliding into the passenger seat as you sped off. Jake grunted a bit as he was taken aback a bit in his seat, tugging on the seat belt and clicking it in, but didn’t comment. Honestly whenever you drove he was gripping like mad on the above handle, experiencing the most fear he had in a while. You weren’t that bad of a driver! You just took it as him not being used to the car.

Your apartment isn’t too shabby, you like it. Of course it’s no house like Jake had, but you bought this (of course your bro left you some cash that helped), but Jake was born into his house. He was lucky from the moment he breathed air into his lungs for the first time. Sure the monsters were a problem most of the time, but he had it easier than you would tell him. He didn’t deal with bullies at school, having to grow up on almost nothing. It didn’t hurt him to not have friends, because he never had to see the other kids making you wish you were a part of their group.

In Jake’s world, he belonged. In your world, you were just a statistic.

You take his luggage, attempting to take your gift from him but he shakes his head and clutches it to his chest. You don’t argue any more, just lock your car and enter the complex, making sure he slinks in after you before heading to the elevator and pressing the button, leaning against the wall.

“You do forgive me for not allowing you to take the gift. I can’t allow you to get the opportunity to peek, and I know how you are.”

“It’s tempting, I’ll have that. But I respect the rules of gift giving, man. I’m not some barbarian.” He laughs, a nervous tone lining it while you two stepped onto the elevator, him taking the liberty of pressing your floor number as you drug his suitcase in behind you. He doesn’t like elevators, you know that. He’s always said they were unpredictable, and he hated the unknown the most. He hated not being able to look at something and know that he could handle it. That he knew that every time he went towards it he would be okay. You’re his best friend, you know these things. You know if you stand near him he’s okay. He trusts you and god it hits you hard that you know he needs you so badly, but it can’t be how you want it to be. You’re his knight in shining armor, and all he sees is the jester that is there to cheer him up.

You’re the jester in his court of heartbreak.

You’re kind of dazed as you make way to your apartment, Jake’s not really all there either. He’s staring down the hallway, shifting closer to you in silence. He’s being suspicious but you don’t say anything. He never liked your neighbors after they complained about you two staying up at all hours of the night.

The door slipped open, your English companion made his way in first, taking his suitcase from your hand. You, again, remained silent, brow raised in question but he didn’t even notice. He was in the guest room in a flash, no comments, no questions. You didn’t care, shrugging out of your blazer and hung it up, kicking off your shoes by the door then making your way to your room. He had your gift ready, but that didn’t mean you had put yours together. You don’t know what he was doing in his room, and quite honestly you didn’t care.

You don’t waste time in your room, just enough to gather the gifts and slip them into a bag with a card, grabbing that giant ass bouquet of ironic roses then fleeing to the kitchen. He still hasn’t emerged, and you start to fear he’s sick, but you don’t want to bother him. You give him a time limit, if he hasn’t come out within ten minutes you’re going in after him. You really don’t want to have to do that though, especially since you don’t even know what’s happening in there.

The kitchen is connected to your living room, a large open space that allows you to cook and watch Rachel Ray tell you how it’s done without having to leave the room. You like to think of it as a luxury; then again, you haven’t really had the chance to taste true luxury. This is the best you’ve had so far. This is probably the best you are going to get. Even at nineteen you understand you aren’t going anywhere with your life.

The guest shows up with a minute left, lugging his bag in and setting it at your bar as you finish putting his flowers in a vase and shoving tissue paper into your own bag. He pulls out a barstool and took a seat, leaning against the countertop, arms folded neatly over each other. His eyes are haunting as they stare you down, your ember pair battling his in silence as you press your hands to the counter and lean forward.

“Open yours, guests first. That’s the rule.” He pouts but willingly takes the bag, taking out the card and tearing it open. He was by far the least graceful gift opener you knew, but you loved seeing life come to his eyes when he pulled out his gifts. He wasn’t used to them; these weren’t things he was used to getting on a normal basis. It was nice to give him something he had never been able to appreciate before.

He places the card down and digs his hand in, grabbing out the first of your gifts: A box of chocolates. Nothing too special, but you knew he loved chocolate, and hell, it’s Valentine’s day, why not? “Oh, sweet! Chocolates! Lord knows what I’m indulging in later!” He’s just so happy, and god it hurts to watch. Your heart aches, chest tightening because you’re making him happy.

You’re making it happy and it still hurts that it will never be enough. But you have to tuck in your lower lip and fight back the pain because you are stronger than this. You’re in love with your best friend, have been for a while now. You’re used to heartache, so you silence your pain because you can’t risk losing him. You can’t risk not having him in your life because you were selfish and told him everything. Opened your heart up and bled out your emotions right in front of him, hoping, praying, that he picked up the pieces and stitched you up.

He takes out the second and last gift (Aside from the flowers), and you swear you can see his breath stop, heart skip a beat, jaw drop. Two eyes venture towards yours and you shrug and nod towards the DVD set, encouraging him to open them. He’s near tears and you want to inappropriately laugh and jump up and down. Not because he’s crying, but because you simply found something that meant so much to him.

It was worth a few thousand to get a boxed set of Indiana Jones movies. Indiana Jones movies that you had managed to get signed by Harrison Ford (and properly authenticated). It’s no Avatar, but you knew you wouldn’t get James Cameron to fork over a signature for this. Besides, between the two of you, these movies are more sentimental for you.

Somewhere between his breath being stolen by your gift and a glance down ward you managed to let your mind wander. You don’t notice him get up and walk up to you. You don’t really notice him take your wrist, but you know he’s there when he twists you around and tugs you into a hug. You can feel his fingers curl into your shirt tightly, head resting on your shoulder. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. He keeps you close and you decide to slip your arms around his back and return the hug. You think he’s crying but you don’t want to say anything. You knew this was his moment, this whole hug was all him. If he wanted to comment, he would.

“Thank you so… Much… You can’t even fathom how much this means to me… Now I feel like I under gifted.” You start a chuckle between the two of you, patting his back as he pulls away and uses his forearm to wipe a few stray tears away. “Nah I think I can understand, Jake. Don’t worry, money isn’t the issue here; it’s the thought that counts right?”

“Yes of course. You’re right, as always. Well, Strider, shall you open yours? Sorry about crying and everything. It’s a bit out of character of me!”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it, Jones. Just makes it more worthwhile is all. We all cry from happiness, no big deal.” You’re casual with your shrug as you grab your bag. The card is about as sappy and ironic as yours, but you love it. You push it back on the counter and make a mental note to hang it on the fridge before you pull out a large box. It’s just cardboard, taped, and you can’t help but stare at the giver before he takes it from you and tears it open, allowing you to view the contents inside as he spoke, “Ah, well, part one of your gift is a robotic horse! Miniature of course, but I had it custom made to look like Maplehoof. Who knows how you could use this little thing, she’s got loads of things inside. Cameras, microphones, speakers… She adapts to iPods and prances around even! I know you love robots, so I figured this wasn’t a terrible idea.” You were already turning the small horse over in your hands, the cold metal giving an odd sensation to your nerves in your hands while you studied it. Larger than your Maplehoof, but gosh it was cool. Creative and thoughtful, this wasn’t a gift you would get on a normal basis. You manage to pull him into a side hug, patting his back while he gestured towards the bag, “One left, Dirk!”

Right, he’s right. There’s one more gift left, so you retreat back to the bag and pull out a teddy bear. The bear is holding a heart, and it looks like you could put a picture in it, but you aren’t sure. You can’t tell if this is even supposed to be ironic, but you look at him anyways in question while he takes the bear and pulls something out of his pocket. He slips it inside the heart, and hands the bear back to you.

Backflips, rolling, jumping jacks, you name it, your stomach was doing it. You were right, it did hold a picture. A picture he put in for you. A picture he took the last time he came down, of the two of you. It’s a side hug, but it’s something. It’s a picture of the two of you and the bear is holding it in his heart. You can feel your jaw flapping open a few times to speak but you can’t. You can’t figure out what to say, you just stare up at him. He’s smiling and that stupid dorky overbite you love is showing. His crow’s feet are showing and you lose it. He’s happy you’re happy, and it’s genuine.

You can’t do this anymore.

The bear is subjected to a tight grasp while you hold him down to your side, free hand travelling to the back of Jake’s head and guiding him forwards, having your lips meet in the middle. He tenses up but you don’t care. He’s shocked, but you revel in the moment, his lips as soft as you imagined they would be. This was everything you had wanted. Or a start at least. Even if he hated you after this at least he knew you had feelings.

You pull back but he declines, drawing you back in with a softer kiss, but there was emotion behind it. You were surprised this now, but you wasted no time kissing back. You hadn’t expected him to kiss you back. You had expected him to punch you and run off with his stuff. You had expected him to despise you for the rest of your mortal lives, but he didn’t. He was kissing back. No, not only was he kissing back, but he started the second one.

His hair is soft between your fingers, and it’s obvious your earlier observation was false; no gel. You grip but it’s soft. He’s holding your hips, and you’re letting him guide this kiss. You want him to continue, but dammit, you needed answers first. You’re pulling back, placing quick pecks to his lips. You’re allowing a sigh to pass through your own, hand that held his hair taking to his hip. You nuzzled his neck with a hug, trying to figure out something to say, anything really.

“What in the hell just happened?”

“Please don’t tell me that wasn’t what you wanted, Strider…”

“Jake, seriously. You have no fucking idea how much I wanted that. I was expecting you to kick me in the nads and run off home, not kiss me back.”

“Well, I can’t see why I bloody well wouldn’t!”

“Well shit, for six years here I was thinking you weren’t interested.”

“Then I apologize for not making my advancements any more clear!”

“If that’s the game we’re playing, then I’m sorry for not saying it sooner.”

He stares at you, confused as you press another kiss to his lips, “Say what, exactly?” Your lips have travelled to his cheek, pressing two or three quick pecks to the flesh before they drew up to his ear. You don’t speak loud, just tug him close while your voice is heard, “I love you.”

You don’t know how long it takes him but he’s holding you the same way, forehead rested on your shoulder. You know he’s smiling, his facial muscles are screaming it. You hate Valentine’s day with every fiber of your being. You live in Huston, Texas and it’s hotter than it should be. You hate Valentine’s day because you hated all the romance.

Now, on the worst day of the year, a great weight has been lifted off your chest. You don’t have to hide it anymore. You’re in love with Jake English, and you’re just happy to know he feels the same. Your name is Dirk Strider, and you think you could get used to February 14th.

“I love you too.”


End file.
